


seven day forecast

by dizzy



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 14:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18719041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: Dan (kinda) helps Phil pack for the holiday.





	seven day forecast

"Have you even started to pack yet?" Dan stands at the top of the stairs, body damp from a shower, and watches Phil come in eighth on Rainbow Road.

"Yeah," Phil says, gesturing around him. There's a basket of laundry to his side, a phone charged unplugged on the table in front of him, and a half empty toiletries case on the sofa beside him. 

"Phil, that's not packing." Dan picks up the phone charger and starts to wind the cable. "That's hoarding your possessions like Smaug." 

"I forgot how to pack," Phil says, waiting for the next round to begin. He's wearing pants and one sock, and Dan's not sure he's ever seen a human being more of a mess. "You should just show me how. Give me a refresher lesson."

"Did that work on Kath like, actually ever?" Dan asks. He sits and pulls the laundry basket toward him. "I'll sort your shirts out. But for the record I'm doing this for myself, so you're not an embarrassment to be seen with." 

Phil beams happily at him. 

*

"Look at this, I need this." Phil shoves his phone in Dan's face. 

The packing is still only half done. Phil was doing so badly in Mario Kart that Dan felt obligated to step in and take over to salvage the good name of their house. 

He glances at the screen. "Is that a corgi suitcase?"

"Not a whole suitcase," Phil says. "Just a luggage cover." 

"You do not need a corgi luggage cover," Dan says, in the tone of voice of someone who has to tell a small child the same thing twenty times a day. 

"I do!" Phil whines. 

"You do not," Dan repeats. "You'd get spotted once in an airport with it and every viewer of ours would know what your suitcase looked like and we'd end up trending on twitter because someone claims they found an AmazingPhil pube in a pair of pants in his stolen luggage and ebayed it." 

"Ew," Phil says. "Fine, then. Are you ready to let me have an actual corgi to put in it?" 

"Not - not yet," Dan says. "And don't make me sound like the bad guy. You know why we can't have a dog yet." 

Phil kicks his feet up onto the coffee table. He's found his other sock, finally. "Yeah, yeah." He pauses, but only briefly. "We should get two, just to make up for having to wait so long."

"Mm," Dan devotes half of his brainpower to thinking it over, since he really only needs half to still be coming in first place. "I think that might be jumping in too deep. We get one, make sure we can keep it alive, then in a year get a second?" 

"Ughh." Phil groans, but accepts the compromise. "Fine." 

*

Things Phil overprepares and never leaves at home:

Snacks. His passport. Movies downloaded onto his devices. Medicine, because one mid-flight migraine was enough to serve as permanent reminder. Backup snacks. 

Things Phil almost always accidentally leaves at home: 

Headphones. Socks. His jacket, which may or may not be an excuse to just buy a new one. At least one device charger. 

Things Phil used to leave at home when traveling sometimes, but rarely does anymore: 

Dan.

*

"Are you doing more laundry?" Dan asks, shouting up the stairs. 

"No," Phil shouts back. "I can take dirty things, there's a washing machine at the house." 

Dan walks all the way back upstairs just to say, "If you pack dirty laundry, I'm actually telling your mum on you." 

Phil sulks at him. "That's not fair." 

"You have time, and I know you already finished your emails." Dan crosses his arms. "So are you doing more laundry?"

Phil sighs and slumps down on the couch. He even kicks a foot out in a faint mimic of a toddler tantrum. "Fine. Yeah."

"Oh, good." Dan's face instantly brightens. "I've got some stuff I want you to wash for me, then." 

He disappears back downstairs so he doesn't have to hear Phil's betrayed outcries. 

*

They stay up too late. 

It's alright. Their flight isn't until the next evening. They can sleep in. 

Phil's always nervous before a flight, anyway. It was easier during tour; endless planes and trains and cars and travel didn't leave much room for nerves. But now their trips are stretched apart by weeks, months usually, and Phil's brain starts to do Phil Brain things, like nightmares about planes falling or being stranded on moving sidewalks that never stop moving, or zombies attacking the airport. 

Sometimes the sillier they are the worse they are, because Phil ends up feeling a mixture of shame and embarrassment over the very real anxieties that worm his way into those subconscious thoughts. 

Leaving home is worse, somehow. Phil never seems as prone to his dreams turning on him when they're returning from somewhere. But flying away from everything familiar triggers the fears that in his absence too many things will change. Phil doesn't like change he's not in control of; he doesn't like unknown quantities. 

He sleeps better the more tired he is on nights like this, so Dan settles in post-pizza dinner with a brand new video game and a slowly growing quieter Phil to keep him distracted into the night. 

*

Phil falls asleep with his head on Dan's shoulder and only half-wakes as Dan bundles him downstairs. 

“Dan,” Phil sighs, clumsy and heavy leaning into him. “Are they going to eat us?” 

Dan kisses Phil’s temple. “No one is going to eat you. Now get in bed.” 

Phil doesn’t even get undressed first, just curls up under the duvet. A few seconds later, he kicks his legs and his pajama pants fall halfway down to the ground, one leg on the floor while the other is still caught somewhere in blankets.

Dan plucks them up and folds them, puts them on top of the dresser. His own limbs are heavy and his eyes want to close but they've each got their idiosyncrasies, and one that Dan's developed is the inability to leave a task half done. 

So he sits in their dimly lit lounge with the last load of laundry done for this trip and he loses himself to the pattern of sorting, folding, packing. He's sure Phil will undo half his tidiness when he checks over it in the morning, but that's alright. Most of the work will still be done. 

He enjoys the feeling of accomplishment for a few more seconds, then leaves the packed suitcase by the door and joins Phil in bed.

**Author's Note:**

> [read and reblog on tumblr](https://alittledizzy.tumblr.com/post/184666605020/seven-day-forecast-rated-g-11k-dan-kinda-helps)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> and thank you always to sarah for reading over things, fixing all my typos, and reassuring me things don't suck <3


End file.
